You have it all wrong!
I want YOU to be beaten.
So that I can laugh.

But it would not last.
Humor is only fleeting.
And that's my downfall.

I stare too much, and
I am the fart in the wind
and other bitches.

Whatever we do.
All becomes just rust and dust.
So I stare at busts.

Yes, I mean boobies.
And sometimes I smoke doobies.
I wear no rubies.

Hey, at least it rhymed.
You find meaning in poems.
But I, sir, do not.

I am wasting time.
And that's what we're all doing.
But I admit it.

Timothy McVeigh,
and, yes, Mother Theresa.
We're all time wasters.

History won't last.
History becomes itself.
All is forgotten.

I see the big wave.
All I want to do is ride.
To the stars and back.

In a million years
no one will remember me
or these dumb haiku.

Unless there's a hell.
There my poems will be read
to punish sinners.

But I don't believe.
But I do want to believe.
My mind won't let me.